Anchor - M. Mabie Page 0,20

knew he told me he was signing the papers, and that’s why I went that night. When I got there, he’d been drinking, and I should have just turned around. I was being stubborn. I just wanted it all over with. I’d been so looking forward to introducing you to my parents and my family that I was feeling a little high from it, I think. I thought if I could just get this done, it would be one less thing to worry about, and then we were going to celebrate.

“He’d put glasses out on the table like I was going to stay, but that was never my intention. He asked if I could at least have a drink with him, but I said I needed to go. When he started getting angry, I decided to leave, then he grabbed my arm and pulled me up the stairs. He said that’s where the papers were, and that I wasn’t leaving until I got my precious papers.

“I knew it was only going to get worse though. Something told me that if I got to the top of the stairs something really bad was going to happen. He just kept yanking me.”

I didn’t have enough energy left to tell the story and keep my emotions at bay. My voice sounded shrill and high, and by that time, my face was hot with spilled tears. Casey never looked away. Caring and strong, he silently gave me support. I didn’t want him to visualize it. To see any of it. Because the thought of him being in pain was unbearable to me. I could only imagine the hell that was seething inside him.

“He started pulling my hair and it hurt so badly, Casey. It felt like he ripped my scalp off. I just wanted to leave. I was scared you were going to leave thinking I’d fucked it all up again. So many things kept running through my head. I tried to hit him. I fought back, but it wasn’t enough. Then he hit me in the face, and I thought I was going to pass out.

“So I did the only thing I could think of and bit him. I bit hard until I tasted blood. I think he swung at me again, but when I didn’t let up, he let go and I fell backward. The expression on his face, when I was falling, wasn’t even concerned. It wasn’t anything. It was just blank. Like he didn’t even care.” As I fell I only thought of Casey.

I sniffled and Casey reached over to the nightstand to get me a tissue.

“Here you go,” he said with such compassion. When I thought he was going to be enraged, and I’m positive he was on the inside, he was gentle and he cared for me.

I sat up and blew my nose. He didn’t leave my side, sitting up with me.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

It had only been the second time I’d told the story and by no stretch of the imagination had it been any easier than the first. Watching Casey’s anguished face, as I revealed step after step, had been agonizing. My heart was beating frantically, and my skin itched with each memory. I knew this was hurting him, and yet he asked me if I was okay. His quiet strength gave me the strength to answer him truthfully.

“Yes. I just want it to be over. I just want him to go away,” I replied, finding some composure. Then I faced him. “But if he thinks he’s going to hurt you, or cause you trouble, he has another thing coming. I won’t allow it.”

That was that.

Be a dick to me. Harass me. Beat me and knock me down. But it would be over my dead body before he did anything to Casey. That included trying to put blame on him where it most certainly did not belong.

“I don’t want to go through a trial. I want to move on, but so help me God, I will. I’m thinking about going to the police and just telling them everything,” I confessed.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just sat next to me, probably wanting to kill him. The silence was too much to bear.

“What are you thinking?” I asked as we settled back down into the bed. I was exhausted from the day. From telling him what happened. From thinking about what I should do. So curling up into his side, I patiently waited